


In your Eyes (I'm not worth it)

by lietpol



Category: Descendants (Disney Movies)
Genre: Angst, Anorexia, Body Image, Eating Disorders, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fasting, M/M, Purging, Slow Build, and probably more relationships, cruella sort of supports carlos with his ed, i have a thing for using nirvana lyrics/songs for my stories sorry, kind of, there will be more people later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-05
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-04-13 04:52:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4508517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lietpol/pseuds/lietpol
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carlos didn't know when it initially started, or even why. All he knew was that he was in control.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In your Eyes (I'm not worth it)

**Author's Note:**

> This could be very triggering for some people, so if you have past issues with EDs please take caution in reading this story. I've suffered with bulimia since I was 12. I have certain pro-ana thoughts, but I would never encourage people to do that to themselves. If you have any questions, you can ask me on my tumblr-- http://bagginsshield.tumblr.com This chapter is short because i don't want to continue on with it if it bothers anyone. Sorry for any errors.

Carlos didn't know when it initially started, or even why. All he knew was that he was in  _control._

It all started when he turned fourteen. Maybe it was because his mother made him skip some meals occasionally due to his incompetence. Or, it could have been because his clothes began to get tighter, some of them unwearable.

Whatever the initial cause may be, he found himself  _purposefully_ skipping meals. Cruella never batted an eye at this. As long as he did what he was told, it was fine. Eventually, he started to ignore the tasks his mother gave him, so that she would make him skip another meal. Anything to get that feeling of emptiness he came to enjoy.

He didn't like the way his thighs touched, or the way his stomach sometimes stuck over the waistband of his pants.  _He didn't like himself._

He knew what changes he wanted to make to his body, and he would achieve those. No matter what.

His cheekbones needed to be sharper and more defined, his thighs needed to be separate, even when his ankles were together. His stomach needed to be flatter, his hip-bones should be protruding more. He wanted to be able to feel each of his ribs.

This wasn't his original goal. He just wanted to lose some weight. Isn't that how it always started? When he shed five pounds in the first week of dieting, he was thrilled. His mother even  _complemented_  him. He began fasting after that. First just a one day fast. Later, he would move on to three days of fasting. Anything to lose the weight he didn't want. It was invigorating to notice how his clothes seemed to be looser in certain areas. This was only the first month.

The second month was when the side effects started to get to him. He had barely any energy to spare. His bones ached, and he had constant headaches. He constantly felt cold, no matter how many layers he was wearing.

The third month was when he really got into dieting. In just those few months, he had lost around fifteen pounds. He felt light on his feet, but he needed more. The side effects didn't bother him as much. He decided it was time to move to more extreme measures. Once a day, usually at dinner time, he would pretend to eat, scattering his food around, cutting into small pieces. Whatever it took to make it look like he was eating. Carlos would excuse himself to the restroom. He would look at his reflection in the small mirror, noticing the way his cheeks weren't as fat, and the way his collar bones shown under the light.

Then, he would smile. Knowing what he was about to do would make him thinner.

He began by purging. He would sit on the floor, staring at the tiles, considering how this could be done easier. His middle and index fingers stroked the back of his throat as he leaned over the toilet, waiting. Once he was sure his stomach was empty again, he would stand and flush the toilet, before moving to the cupboard above the sink.

There sat the bottle of laxatives he had found when he was scavenging in the trash bins. He had never used them, but it seemed like now was as good of a time as ever. He took the bottle, shaking out two pills. They were quite large, and orange in color. He looked at them for a moment before tossing his head back and swallowing the pills quickly.

Nothing would really happen until the morning after. He would wake up to terrible stomach cramps and stumble into the bathroom. Carlos knew this was fucking disgusting, but if he cleaned out his system in the morning, it would make him feel lighter during the day. He was in the middle of a fasting period, five days. This was the second. He consumed over 64 ounces of water a day, just to stop the hunger pangs.

When he stood, his vision became blurred for a moment, and he felt like he had no grip on the world. His thighs began to form a gap, but they still touched when his ankles were together. His hair was growing brittle, which he was not pleased about.

Carlos set out to find vitamins and energy supplements. He had to go to the shady side of the island, but he didn't mind. He would trade things, sell things, whatever it took to obtain the items.

Before he showered, he would stand in front of the long mirror in the bathroom for who knows how long. He liked the way his ribs were beginning to become more prominent, and how his hip-bones were starting to stick farther out as his stomach hollowed in.

He now had to poke holes into his belts just to keep his pants up, and his shirts were rather baggy. He didn't mind. To cover up how baggy his clothes were, and to also help keep him warm, he would wear several layers to make him look bulkier.

Cruella began to notice, but didn't say anything. In fact, the only thing she did say was that he had never looked better. She didn't cook meals for him anymore, because why waste the food? He still brought her the stuff she wanted, so it was fine if he didn't want to eat all the time.

When the fourth month began, Carlos really started to restrict. He was ranging about 1000 calories a day for a while, but he decided he needed to take in less. He moved to 800 calories a day. He also began a steady workout routine that he completed daily.

Some days he felt he couldn't do the workout, but he pushed through and completed it. He needed to lose the weight.

As his weight dwindled, he began to feel anger. Anger that his mother didn't care. He knew what he was doing was very unhealthy. He knew he had a problem. He knew his organs were literally  _shrinking,_ and that his body was changing to take in less food.

He didn't want to stop, but he would at least like to know that his mother cared.

Carlos brushed those thoughts away. His mother was a villain after all. She didn't have the potential to care. Unless it was about herself. But that didn't matter anymore. Carlos had a sense of control. He got used to not having enough energy. He could cope.

As the fifth month rolled around, Carlos made his first friend.

She was a good year or so older than him, and her name was Evie.

Evie and Carlos ran into each other by chance while walking through the more shady area of the island. He was there to pick up his vitamins, she was there for makeup products. It was your typical way of becoming friends. They bumped into each other, Carlos dropping his vitamins in the process. Evie stood beside him as he collected his items. She didn't help, or even say sorry. It wasn't in her nature, and Carlos understood that.

He brushed the dirt off his knees as he stood, looking at Evie's apparel. "You've got a nice style going on there" he said. She turned her head to size up Carlos, taking in everything from his fur, to his two-toned hair. "You're not so bad yourself. What's your name?"

"Carlos De Vil, you?"

"Evelyn, but I prefer Evie. Your mom is quite the handful, or so I hear. But her sense of style isn't too bad." Carlos actually laughed at this. "You have no idea how much of a handful she actually is."

"Yea, my mom can be a pain too," Evie sighed, "she's always going on about how I'm not pretty enough. I think deep down she cares, but I can't really tell, honestly." She shrugged. "Oh, my mother is the evil queen, by the way." Carlos nodded.

"you know, you seem a little too thin. Maybe you could come to my place some time, have some dinner or something? I know it can be rough here to get food" She suggested. Carlos began to panic, but he plastered a smile on his face anyways. "Sure, that sounds great."

"Cool, meet me here tomorrow and we'll go to my place."

"Alright, see you then."

And with that, they went their separate ways.

How was he supposed to eat dinner in front of others? He didn't want those calories at all. Carlos sighed, coming to the conclusion that he would have to skip lunch and dinner today, and lunch tomorrow as well. He didn't mind, but it was going to take lots of water to control his cravings. He could purge as well, but that meant he'd have to leave Evie's early.

He was thrilled to be able to get out of his own house for a while though, it was so suffocating around his mother. She liked to pet him too much, almost like he was a dog. He never understood that, honestly. But if it made her happy, and she didn't hit him for being such a massive fuck up, then he was fine with being petted.

When he arrived home, there was a list on the cabinets of things he had to do before he could go to bed.

"Why do the seats of the chairs have to be scrubbed? There's only two of us here.."

"Why are you complaining, boy? I like the place to be clean. Just get it done." His mother walked by, smacking him on the back of his head. He sighed in his head, because if he did it out loud, his mother would hit him. Again.

While he was cleaning, he thought about the dinner with Evie tomorrow. He thought it would be best to not tell his mother. She didn't like sharing Carlos with anybody.

His hands were cramping up from scrubbing so hard. He was also required to clean each tile of the floor. The smell of bleach and other cleaning products made his nose itch, but he couldn't scratch it because he was covered in said cleaners. He should be used to it by now, but it still bothered him. It was just such a strong smell.

He scrubbed and cleaned to the point that he wasn't even thinking about what he was doing. He wasn't really thinking at all; it was like his mind was blank. But then, a thought surfaced.

_Hunger._

He jolted up, beginning to panic a little. He had to get some water immediately. He had been so good today, he couldn't screw this up now. He reached the sink, grabbing a cup and filling it to the brim. Carlos stood there as he swallowed down the water quickly. He could feel the hunger pangs dying down, but they were on the edge of his thoughts. He needed to finish his chores so he could get to sleep, or else he would be tempted to eat until he felt full.

There was nothing worse than over-eating to him. He was terrified of the thought, even more than dogs.

He began to clean quickly, running over each tile as fast as he could. When he was done, he threw the dirty rag into the sink and ran to the bathroom. He grabbed two laxatives and swallowed them. The white haired boy stood there for a moment, trying to calm his nerves.

Carlos returned to his room, sprawling out on his bed. He wondered when he became so obsessed with weight loss. It's not like he was very big to begin with, but it had hit him head on. And now, all he could think about was his weight. Nothing mattered more than that number getting lower. It consumed him, and he didn't try to stop it. Neither had his mother.

He pushed those thoughts aside, bringing his legs up to pull off his boots. He liked how small his legs looked, how his thighs weren't as big as they used to be. He was doing a great job of getting rid of the weight. He dreaded the thought of waking up in pain tomorrow, but he would live. And his weight would drop more. Whatever it took to be thin, he would do it. 


End file.
